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Christmas 2011 – the year Davis was a little sh#t …

‘Twas Christmas 2011 and Davis is two. It will forever be known as the year my little angel was a little sh#t – or as they say in Newfoundland a little joe jeezler.

Now, I say this with the same fondness my mother used when she said it to me and my brother every time we’d get mischievous grins on our faces and do things we sort of knew we shouldn’t but just couldn’t help ourselves from doing.

So now, it is I who reflects back on the memories my child has given me this holiday season, memories that make me laugh as much as they make me frazzled. Sometimes I don’t laugh until a few hours later but nonetheless I do laugh and I do know this is what makes Christmas so wonderful.

fashion girl pose #117

1. The war of the tidy house.

I would tidy one room at the expense of another. Her incessant need to put everything in all these different boxes then throw things like rain had me in disarray for a couple of weeks… and it is something she just started doing as of December 1st. One Saturday night after she was sound asleep, I succeeded in getting the place spotless. Sunday morning she ran out of her room into the clean living room. Stopping dead in her tracks she gasped in shock. Even she couldn’t believe it was tidy (it’s always clean under the toys.) It lasted 3 hours before it looked like a tornado again. Thank God no one in official positions came by – they would think I neglect housework.

2. Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree.

My dad helped me pick out a beautiful tree and put it up in the stand. This is one of the few things I know I can’t do by myself. It was a Wednesday night after work and I was determined to get it decorated. Christmas music was playing, I was singing and trying so hard to get Davis to help me decorate. Alas, she had no interest whatsoever. None. Zilch. Nada. So I did it alone, plodding on for a few hours until it was as finished as it could be.

Davis looked at the tree, walked over to it and proclaimed, “I do not like that tree.”

“What?” was my shocked reply. I knew it needed a few more lights and some more decorations but I didn’t think it looked that bad.

Davis, doing her best impression of the high and mighty ruler of our universe, walked around the tree, then turned on her toe and said, “I hate that Christmas tree.” Then flipping her hand at me as the Queen may dismiss a servant she ordered, “Take it down.”

the half-naked, drunk Christmas tree

3. Oh Christmas tree… part 2.

The tree went up on Wednesday. Saturday, while I was cleaning the kitchen, Davis decided to redecorate it. I should have known something was up due to the length of time she left me alone to do the chores I was engaged in. However, hindsight is just that and in the moment I was happy to be getting so much done. It wasn’t until Davis ran in the kitchen with one of the small wicker baskets full of Christmas ornaments that the realization hit me… there was a price to pay for my clean kitchen.

“Look Mommy! For Santa!” she yelled excitedly.

“Oh no…” came my whispered gasp as I ran the few steps into the living room to see that not only had she taken down every decoration within her reach but she had also managed to knock the darn tree over so it is leaning against the wall.

We now have a half-naked, drunk tree.

I didn’t even get one picture of it before the indulgence of too much toddler.

I’ve hinted to various family members that she did this hoping someone would come to my rescue. Alas, the hints weren’t gotten and the tree still leans. ‘Tis the season of the intoxicated evergreen.

flour all over her face...

4. Food fights with toddlers = bad idea

While making cookies Davis started to get a little restless and as I was trying to lift the stars she’d just cut out of the dough she started to smoosh them into the counter. Giggling, I flicked flour (just a little bit) all over her face and said, “You little munchkin.”

Well, the thing about doing something like that to your toddler is they don’t quite understand the idea that it doesn’t go father than a little flick…

Cookie dough went flying. Across the kitchen, the dining room, at the cat, at me. Every where she could fling that dough she did. Knowing I started this and the best plan of action would be to ignore her I pretended this wasn’t happening and adverted full-on disaster. It took about 20 minutes to get the dough off the walls and flour but it could have been much, much worse. *shudder*

When I post little things on Facebook about our Christmas adventures people keep reminding me that these are the memories we will talk about when she is older and how I’ll wish for these times again. It is something I truly know because every now and then we have a moment like this…

… and it makes every other moment worth while. Even if I’ve got a little more grey than yesterday.